Freedom's Slave
by Daroneasa
Summary: Terra's life as an Andalite slave.


My name is Terraformer 14470034-21.   
This is my Hirac Dilest. I shall die within a few hours. So little time before my short and relativly pointless, miserable life comes to an end. All lives of the Kahani end in pain. Only those who die before birth are spared the cruelty of slavery and the humiliation of being used the way the andalites use us. Yes, the almighty andalites, the moralizers of the galaxy, who are so opposed to slavery on other planets. There has been much debate over our new allies, the yeerks, who are parasites that infest and control species. But why? How is what these andalites do to my species, and have done for thousands of years, differ from what the yeerks do? We are born to work, we are born to be slaves, we die slaves. Ignorant. We have no language. We have no history other than what our own memories furnish and what the Andalites write. They say we're unintellegent because we have no language. We can understand thought-speak, but that is all. We cannot answer, except for bowing and hoping that we are not hit with the blunt side of their blades.   
We are the secret darker than any other.   
We are the slaves of the Andalites.   
Any andalite who finds this will not beleive it, really. They will say things like "It's a hoax from some radical. The Kahani would never be so intellegent." Future allies would be horrified, I suspect. I have no way of knowing.   
Maybe even those slave masters, who have outdone the andalites with their complete control, the yeerks, might be horrified by the things the superior andalites have done. Those heros of the galaxy, the Andalites.   
They think slavery is fine, for them. They can justify it with the response that we're stupid and primitive.   
They can say that we are primitive, yes.   
But we aren't stupid.We're ignorant. Ignorant of a life that could be any better, one with hope and happiness, like an andalites.   
The Andalites chose to shove us into the background. They make excuses for themselves and justify this to soothe their own minds, becuase even the Andalites have a conciouse.   
But in the end, no matter what, my kind is doomed to be ignorant, to be slaves.   
But I am an exception. I'm not ignorant. I can write...and I can think for myself.   
Which, you see, is why I must die.   
The common people are told we aren't intellegent enough to grasp the concept of organized communication. Even if the people thought we were smart, things wouldn't change. If they knew of a broken, mute, teenage Kahani girl who could write....it would intigue them, but, in the end, the council would say I was unusually intellegent, that the others are stupid.   
The Andalites will never change. Change is not part of their evolution. Adaptability was never needed.   
I hope that somewhere, some other species might, by some small chance, find this, be able to read this, and understand...   
Understand. We understand. We know, and we DO have intellegence.   
And that's something the Andalite lies can never take, can never destroy.   


Chapter 1

My earliest memory was my mother. More than likely a breeder, a woman who's only function was to produce children for slavery. The child would be left with her until it could survive, then it would be evaluated, sold as a slave for whatever job it was decided to perform. In my case, I was small. Very small, and agile. I'd make a good Terraformer/worker, because I could work quickly. But I would have to start out the way most slaves do.   
I remember being taken from my mother. Who knows how many of my brothers and sisters she had had before me. But I remember her nuzzling against me, purring. We are a very loving species with our own. Even with the andalites we are. Strange, but true. I was very nice when I was a baby. I would be given to some people to raise, use as a servant, until I was old enough to work. The day my new owners came, they looked at several other young ones, all in cages with their mothers, trying to prolong the time with their babies, attempting to hide them, or, even, make them cry, so that the Andalites would think that it was a noisy child, too much trouble.   
But I was mute. I could not cry, and my mother knew this. She cradled me, hiding me partially in her fur, but it was no use.   
I was taken because the people wanted something not troublesome.   
The one thing that seemed to be a benefit to the people who bought me: I was mute.   
I could not cry. I would open my mouth, but no sound. Tears would roll down my red furred cheeks, and they could be ignored.   
The people wanted me as a playmate for their child, Asika.   
Asika was not much older than me, and she and I lived in the scoop and were practically sisters. I was treated kindly by her parents.   
Then, Asika went to school. I would have several hours of waiting for my friend, and when she came back, she would babble about her day, even though I couldn't possibly understand it, so her parents said. But I did.   
Today, we learned the andalite alphabet! > she said proudly.   
I made a motion with my hand, holding it up and shaking it, a sign that meant between us that I didn't understand what that meant.   
It's writing. You use it to communicate. Like thought-speak...only you write symbols on paper. >   
I was still unclear as to her meaning, but, oh, how wonderful if I could talk!   
If I could thought speek like her! Tell her how I felt, ask her things, learn....   
I will teach you to write! I shall be your teacher! > Asika announced.   
That's how it all began.   
I was slow at first, because it was only a picture game to me, but slowly, with Asika explaining, spelling the name of everything, I began to understand. She called me Terra. She spelled my name in the andalite alphabet. I spelled my name. I spelled her name.   
It was magic.   
Then, suddenly, it became so easy. I learned everything. I wrote. I communicated!   
It's like being blind, then having glul woman. A scientist, working on something called the 'escafil device'.   
I smiled at them again and began to write, very slowly, for it was still so new to me. It came out in jumbled, sloppy letters, but obviously I knew what I was doing.   
"I am Terra. Asika is my friend...." I scribbled.   
They watched me and suddenly, their eyes widened in fear.   
No! >   
Asika's father picked me up by the scruff of my neck, shaking me.   
You copy Asika! No! This will end us! >   
I reached for my piece of wood and the ink made from berries which I dabbed on my claw to write with.   
No! We must kill this...thing! > her father screeched. Her mother looked at me with fear and pity.   
But...she is a child! >   
Does it matter? Will it matter when she shows the authorities? WILL IT MATTER WHEN WE ARE KILLED AND ASIKA IS FOREVER SHAMED? >   
He was panicking.   
I think, if not for the fact that Asika showed up at that moment, I would have died that day. Killed by her father, who was so desperate and confused.   
I couldn't understand what was wrong.   
The parents of my friend told her why I must die, that I could copy language, but that I wasn't intellegent, and that the law would kill them if I could write, and so on.   
Please, father! Don't kill Terra! Please! She's my friend! >   
Her father's face softened. He was really a good man, just ignorant of the truth.   
My dearest daughter, we can't... >   
Her mother jumped in.   
We'll sell her! She won't die, Asika, but you will never see her again. >   
Asika's stalk eyes dropped, but she agreed.   
Terra, if you can understand, you must NEVER write again. NEVER. Never tell anyone that you wrote. Shake your head if you understand. >   
I shook my head. Never. I had to be ignorant, like all of my kind. It was death to be anything but Ignorant.   
The next day was the last I ever saw Asika.   
Terra, please don't forget how to write.... > she begged.   
I nodded, promised in that motion forever that I would never forget. But I didn't promise it to her. I promised it to me.


End file.
